Poetry Power

I generally have 3 categories for books I pick up.

1. Classics I have never read

2. Books friends have written or recommended

3. Accidental finds

The book I just finished is in the 3rd category.


How to Say Babylon is a memoir from a Jamaican poet, Safiya Sinclair, who, like me, is 39. Her story is an incredible journey of poetry and the long memory of self-discovery. She shares about the constant hostility and abuse in her home due to her father’s strict Rastafarian beliefs, juxtaposing them with the discipline of poetry, writing, and reading that helped her see her calling as a poet and author. The book just came out in October, but I imagine it will be named one of the best works of creative non-fiction of 2023. I am so grateful she chose to share her story with the world. It’s a reminder that there are many young poets out there pursuing words and how to string them together with their heart. It means I have an obligation to help nurture that with my students. Because I have always felt like poetry was my weakest link in my education, I have had to work hard to understand the ear qualities and brevity it often requires. It would be so easy for me to just double down on novels, but if I did I would have no sense of language’s beauty and form which is essential for excellent writing and understanding yourself. So I continue to look for ways to incorporate it into our days at Maple Key and the local writing group I am in. One of the ways is through poetry prompts.

This one is from Joseph Fasano’s to-be-released, Magic Words.

Here is what I wrote:

The fox cannot help being clever.
The bleeding heart cannot help being ephemeral.
The star cannot help being luminous.
And I cannot help being Rach.
Even in my sleep, I dream of words.
Even in my sadness, I love my compassion.
I swim in the rivers of my unsureness.
I climb through mountains of my fatigue.
I travel for years and years.
And on the other side
is Rachel, beautiful Rachel,
her unruly curls cascading in the breeze.


It was good to dig deeper and not write it like a Mad Lib where you just put the first thing that comes to your mind. I encourage you to surprise yourself and give this prompt a try. Feel free to leave your work in the comments here or on the Maple Key Facebook page.

A friend from writer’s group gave us this prompt for this month from The Poet’s Companion by Kim Addonizio and Dorianne Laux. She said the repetitive form lends itself to writing about a common dream experience (whether true or made up). It is called a pantoum and you write lines that weave back through the poem (hence the numbers that guide it). Here’s my example based on the anxiety people have about being unprepared for a class:

1 Today’s Lesson
2 Written in thick, black letters
3 Teacher wants us to know
4 But I cannot write

2 Written in thick, black letters
5 Her misplaced enthusiasm.
4 But I cannot write.
6 I cannot speak.

5 Her misplaced enthusiasm
7 Smashes against the teenage clamor.
6 I cannot speak.
8 I will suffer for this.

7 Smashing against the the teenage clamor,
9 My muteness a target.
8 I will suffer for this.
10 I close my eyes.

9 My muteness a target.
11 I cannot be the dependable one today.
10 I close my eyes.
12 No paper. No pencil. No notebook.

11 I cannot be the dependable one today.
13 A test I will not pass.
12 No paper. No pencil. No notebook.
14 Everything a swirl of noise.

13 A test I will not pass.
1 Today’s Lesson:
14 Everything a swirl of noise.
3 Teacher wants us to know.


Give this one a go and discover what comes up for you even if no one sees it but you! Play with the punctuation. However, you can also feel free to put your completed poem in the comments here or on the Maple Key Facebook page if you want to share.

I believe poetry has immense power, so challenge yourself to dip your toes in — the water is fine!

The Local Library

Last month I got a new job. I didn’t quit my old one, but added to my repertoire as they say.

I was a library assistant my senior year of high school and considered for a while becoming a librarian, but it didn’t really fit with my college choice and I wasn’t sure if I was up for grad work right away in order to get the job I wanted. So I let that dream go and life has swept me along thinking about it every now and again…

I guess the Lord didn’t want me to forget about that pursuit when we realized our house was within walking distance of the local library (also a 3 minute drive). It’s located in the city hall complex on the backside with no flashy sign, so many people don’t know it’s there. Near the building is a newly redone playground and splash pad and dog park that helps draw people in. My family has been going there for over 12 years and having 4 kids meant racking up a lot of stroller miles over that time.

Fast forward to now… a longtime library employee, who we loved dearly, recently moved. All the employees shifted up in positions which left the 8 hour a week spot open. They asked me if I wanted to join on and doing some creative support, event help, and behinds the scenes grunt work. They said this position has no set hours and my kids are always welcome to come with me. How could I say no?

My co-worker (who is an incredible artist!) made a stencil and I chalked this outside the library for Dino-vember

So I have run Bingo for the older crowd, wrapped boxes for movie time photo ops, shelved books, taped and stamped books, chalked dinosaur feet, helped people locate graphic novels, cut out crafts for storytime, organized craft items. Ironically, through doing this varied work it confirmed my choice to not become a full-fledged librarian who acquires books and labels things, etc. I have to have a lot of variety in my jobs, so being behind a desk all the time isn’t what I am built for. I have to move which is probably why I became a teacher instead.

I am excited about giving back in a small way to a place that has given so much to my children and so many others over the years — a community area that really is like a second home and a safe space to them. When I work (now as an official employee of my city) I see all the many faces of my community and even my own literal neighbors. That was the part I didn’t consider when I was dreaming about books as an 18 year old, but I see it so clearly now. These “3rd spaces” (places that are not home or work) are vital for populations to flourish.